The Deciding Factor
by exiled mind
Summary: Still shocked by the news of Sirius Black's escape, Remus receives a visitor.


Thank you to nellidarlin, a wonderful and perceptive (and patient) beta.

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Early morning was a quiet affair in the rather ordinary little neighborhood. No one ever returned exceedingly late from dinner parties or clubs and no one ever left for work earlier than was strictly necessary. It was therefore the perfect time for a man who shunned the attention of the people living nearby to take a walk and pretend he was anywhere but there.

This had been his morning routine since arriving in the area three days ago. He would step out onto the sagging porch and watch as the first hint of sun lightened the horizon. He would breathe deeply, eyes closed and face upturned, before setting off down the steps. His long legs carried him around the entire neighborhood quickly, and he always returned before anyone in the larger, tidier houses nearby had stirred. He would climb the steps back onto the porch and wait until the paper was delivered soon after, before retreating back into the dimness of the cottage.

This morning, the man returned from his promenade to find the owl waiting on the post of the broken front railing, it's feathers ruffled and body shifting from side to side. Upon reaching the bird, the man relieved it of its burden, only to receive an annoyed nip for his troubles. The bird then took to the sky without waiting for a tip, ignoring the man's distracted, "Thank you," trailing behind.

The man unfolded the paper as he opened the door and entered the cottage, stopping abruptly once inside. The front page had been revealed and the man seemed as if turned to stone, so little movement did he make for several long minutes, staring down at the photograph so prominently displayed there.

The man was fortunate for the solitude of the morning. No one was around to see when the door slammed shut of its own accord as he strode to the table to lay out the paper, waving his hand behind him.

The night was not still. It refused to submit to the mood of the man staring grimly out of the window of the ramshackle little cottage. A cool breeze made a futile attempt to break up the oppressive heat leftover from the day, insects flew listlessly about, and televisions flickered out of neighbors' windows.

The man saw none of these things, however. He had been sitting in the chair since opening the _Daily Prophet_ early that morning. He had barely moved all day, had barely even breathed, so caught up in his thoughts was he. Although his eyes were fixed on the shadowy woods nearby, the man did not see them. He was looking deeply within himself.

The sputtering candle, the only source of light in the dour little one-room cottage, gave its last desperate flicker and went out. There was little light coming through the window from the moonless night and the room was enveloped in near-blackness.

Not a minute after the candle gave up its battle, there came a sharp, purposeful knock on the door. The man at the window jerked slightly at the sound, but made no move to rise.

"Come in."

Although the door was thin and battered, and his hoarse voice seemed hardly strong enough to reach the visitor's ear, the knob turned and the door swung inward.

A tall, thin wizard dressed in good-quality green and purple robes peered over his half-moon spectacles at the worn-looking man slumped in the moldy armchair by the window who had not yet lifted his head from his hand, nor shown any acknowledgement of his guest.

Albus Dumbledore stepped over the threshold and into the cottage's one room, closing the door behind him with a firm push. The door was old and the lock would not catch otherwise.

Turning back around he surveyed his surroundings. There was little furniture, little color, and the sense of little hope. The two windows facing the front of the cottage were boarded up. There was a table in the center of the room with a single chair sitting beside it and a large chest pushed up against one end. An ancient stove stood in the corner. The woodbin near it was empty of everything but a few splinters leftover from occupants past. A sleeping pallet was unrolled in the opposite corner near the armchair and the one remaining window.

Although the tall wizard knew this to be only a temporary home for his comrade, he could not help but worry about the effect such a place would have on the man. Then again, Remus Lupin had suffered far more in his young life than mere shabby surroundings.

The room was lighter now, although neither man had uttered a spell nor lit a lamp. One might attribute it to the whiteness of the tall wizard's hair and beard, or the sparkle in his eye. It seemed more likely, however, that the man simply drew radiance to himself in a luminous aura.

The curling path of smoke rising from the extinguished candle drew those shining eyes to the tattered paper lying across the table. Several sections had been tossed carelessly on the one homely chair, ignored because they did not hold the story that had recently engulfed the attention of all of wizard-kind.

One picture, the subject of which even now jittered and shuffled across the image, laughed and muttered silently. The headline shouted in large, eye-catching script words chosen to produce fear and concern in all those who passed. And, of course, to boost sales.

Dumbledore sighed and raised his eyes to look out the window past Remus' shoulder for a moment before addressing him.

"It's not wise, in these troubled times, to leave one's door unlocked to any who might stumble across the doorstep." His tone was mild but indicated significant weight to his words, a meaning behind them that he would not yet make plain.

Finally the too-thin man straightened himself up, gripped the arms of the chair, and turned to face his visitor. There was a pink mark on his temple where his hand had rested for so long, and his graying hair – _Has it really been so long?_ Dumbledore wondered - was disheveled from the passage of troubled fingers.

"Hello, Headmaster. I wondered if you'd come." Remus did not respond to the other's concern, but they both knew it was unnecessary to do so. This young man - for young he was, despite the way time seemed to weigh heavily on him - knew much of the dangers of these times. Perhaps better than most.

"Remus. I'm sorry that I was not able to come earlier. I had wanted to be the one to share the… news, and discuss the situation with you myself. However there has been much that needs doing, and you can be a difficult man to find… when you want to be."

Remus rose slowly from the chair as if the weight of the world were pushing against him. He walked over to the trunk and opened it, pawing through it slowly. It was a good excuse to keep his face down, a chance to pull himself together enough to remain outwardly controlled. He did not acknowledge the comments made by the other man. He was not yet ready. "I'm sorry that I have no tea to offer you at the moment," he said mildly. "I did not intend to set up house here for very long. I have a bar or two of chocolate, if that might interest you."

"No, thank you, Remus. Keep it for yourself. I imagine it will come in handy in the times ahead."

Remus' eyes flashed up and caught those of Dumbledore, then flashed away again. "I imagine so." He pulled a new candle from the trunk and walk back to the table, leaving the trunk open. Something from within gave a fierce rattle, and there might have been very soft muttering as well, but neither man acknowledged it.

Placing the candle on the table next to the wax pool of its predecessor, Remus was able to prolong the moment before he had to face Dumbledore and the inevitable questions. He knew he had the man's trust, but it was unavoidable - a man with his particular infirmity, a man who was a former friend of the recently escaped Sirius Black, was bound to fall under suspicion. Dumbledore had a duty to perform, and was, Remus admitted, probably being kind by coming himself.

_Did you help him escape? Come now, Remus, you were friends. Classmates. You were very close for a time. Perhaps he called in a favor or begged you to remember the bonds of brotherhood. At the very least you must know where he might go, how he might get there…_

Remus did not light the candle. The shadows allowed Remus a semblance of privacy, a small refuge against the piercing blue eyes of his former Headmaster. Remus knew his emotions were raw on his face, and he was ashamed for Dumbledore to see them. And afraid that Dumbledore would read the guilt that plagued him.

_There are things he doesn't know. Things that could change everything. You have the chance to tell him the truth, after all these years. Why don't you? This knowledge could change everything. You were a fool before, believing you were above the rules, the restrictions…does your loyalty to a traitor surpass your loyalty to the man who offered you a chance at a real life, such as it is? Coward._

Remus leaned against the edge of the table. He was tired and did not have the strength to worry and pace at the same time. Finally, he asked, "So it's true then? Not just a tale intending to stir up trouble? Distract us from other events?"

"You know it's true." Resignation laced that simple statement. "I cannot say as to whether it is meant as a distraction, but whether that is the intent or not, it is certainly accomplishing that purpose." There was a hint of something else in his voice, something akin to reluctant admiration.

Remus indulged himself in a moment's thought. _Is it possible that Dumbledore did not see this coming? Not even a hint?_ Remus had long had the impression that very little of the past, present, or even future was a mystery to the man he had admired for so long.

Remus shook himself out of his musings. He might as well get on with the questioning. He gave Dumbledore an opening. "There arerumors about where he may be going. They say he speaks of Hogwarts nightly, a madman's raving."

Dumbledore nodded. He moved forward and swept the papers off of the worn and wobbly chair before sitting down. "I have heard those same rumors. According to my sources, the reliable ones at least, he is not nearly as mad as one might expect from over a decade in Azkaban." Dumbledore's rings flashed with some unknown light as he organized the papers in a neat pile and placed them on the table, sliding them underneath the main section and its agitated photograph.

"That means your students are in danger." Remus sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to massage out the tension that had settled upon him, silent and sneaky, some twelve years before.

"I am in the process of setting up measures to keep them safe." Dumbledore's voice was firm. "Hogwarts will stand, and defend its inhabitants as it always has."

Remus knew that to be true. It was traditionally only _after_ leaving those hallowed grounds that young witches and wizards met their heartrending fates.

Albus Dumbledore gathered himself together and pierced Remus with a look so powerful that Remus had little choice but to gaze back. Those shining eyes drew him; there was nothing else to look at in the dim room, no distractions, and no excuses. Neither blinked.

"That is another reason why I have come to speak to you. Although I failed in my first purpose, I hope to be successful with the second."

_Here it comes_.

"I am here to ask you for your help."

Remus paused in the middle of forming his denial and blinking slowly at Dumbledore for several long moments. "My help? As always, Professor, you have my loyalty and support, but I am afraid that I have very little else to offer you at the moment." Remus' voice was calm, matter-of-fact, despite his words. His hand swept out to display his humble surroundings. "As is, I'm sure, quite obvious by my current living arrangements. If it's information on where Sirius might be, then…"

"Enough, Remus. I do not believe that you are working with Sirius. I do not believe you were involved in his escape, nor do I think that you are hiding him away in your teacup. On that you can rest assured. I did not come here to examine you for involvement on that matter."

"What else can I do? Professor, I am not in a position to be of much aid-"

Dumbledore interrupted, as gently as possible. "In this, we do not agree. In point of fact, I believe you are the perfect wizard for the job."

"Job?"

"Indeed. And I mean that literally, as well as figuratively. I want you to return to Hogwarts." Dumbledore raised his wand and the forgotten candle on the table burst to life. "I wish you to take up the post as Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Remus stared at him, speechless, for a moment before responding. "Headmaster... I am not sure that the parents of your students would approve of a… _person_ like me teaching their children." _And I'm positive that certain members of the staff would do more than disapprove…_

Dumbledore fixed him with a level stare. "I did not let that stop me in the past, and I see no reason to allow it to affect decisions of the present either. You will not encounter any more resistance to your presence now than when you were a student."

Remus clearly saw the meaning of that statement. Severus Snape would be livid. But then, that was not a new development. Nothing he hadn't dealt with in the past.

There were so many other issues to consider. He rested his face in his hands and took several deep breaths. His mind swirled with a mix of possibilities, regrets, and worries.

"Remus..." There was a hint of concern in Dumbledore's tone. "I need you there. I need a competent professor for students who are living in dangerous times with distressingly little preparation for the perils that lie ahead of them. I need another person whom I can trust to keep Hogwarts and its students safe." Dumbledore paused for a moment. "I think that Harry would benefit from your presence as well."

At the mention of Harry, Remus' heart gave an odd twist in his chest. _James and Lily's son_.

"Does he know who I am?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not yet. I will leave that for you to reveal when you are ready. You have not seen him since…"

"Before James and Lily died. He was a baby. He wouldn't remember me."

"He is an impressive young man. He has an interesting manner of dealing with situations most young men should never encounter. You will find he is much like his parents."

_And look what happened to them_. The nasty voice in the back of Remus' head continued to plague him with doubts.

"If the suspicions are correct and Sirius is heading towards Hogwarts, it may not be wise for me to-"

"On the contrary. I think that the situation would be greatly improved by your presence. I place my trust in you, Remus. I do hope you won't let me down."

Dumbledore picked up the slightly mangled _Daily Prophet_ and began to read, allowing Remus a semblance of privacy and time to think. Behind the protection of the newspaper his eyes sparkled and mouth quirked with something akin to sardonic humor. He knew how to achieve his goals, however the manner. In times such as these, one must do what is necessary.

While Dumbledore sat, quietly and serenely reading, Remus paced. He stared out the window, arguing with himself, hands clenching and releasing rhythmically at his sides. Remus recognized Dumbledore's manipulations, but also the need for such actions. His frustration with the current situation infused him with a new kind of energy and he fed on that as his mind whirled.

In the end, the only issue that Remus had to consider was that of loyalty. To Dumbledore. To James and Lily, and now Harry. But most importantly, to himself. He could make a difference. He had failed to change the path of events before, but he would get it right this time. _He would_.

And with a clasping of hands and the first true smile in days, it was done.


End file.
